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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109674">Our story afterwards</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Antebellum/pseuds/J_Antebellum'>J_Antebellum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Post Lethal White</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:14:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Antebellum/pseuds/J_Antebellum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a few months after Lethal White, they're working in the office, still in Denmark Street, when Strike gets a text warning of a IED in his attic above.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tic tac</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 1:</b>
</p><p>It was one of those November days in which London was covered in mist and the windows full of traces of the rain that had fallen all through the night. It was painfully cold, the kind of cold that manages to pass through thick wool jumpers and jackets and makes you uncomfortable and trembling and that had the English putting kettle after kettle on the stove. It had just been Bonfire Night and the capital was still waking up after a night of too much fun despite it having been a Monday, and Strike was trying hard not to stare at the office's clock because Robin was late. Not too late, barely five minutes, but late nonetheless, which was uncommon. However, it wasn't worry that kept Strike's dark-green eyes fixed on the clock.</p><p>Robin had been living in Earl's Court, at Ilsa's gay friend Estella, for a couple months now. These had been semi-happy months. Robin had been dealing with her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder doing her Cognitive Behavioural Therapy on her own, and Estella had proved to be a very good and very needed friend to her all these months, someone who wasn't attracted to Robin either, which provided a comfortable environment home. Estella had gotten Robin to go out, party, and had helped her make a healthy group of friends closer to her in age, as Estella was only slightly older than Robin, unlike Nick and Ilsa Herbert. Robin arrived in a better mood to work than ever, left without a weight in her chest and actually looking forward to her flat, and some weekends she'd go with any of her new friends for a drink or for calmer hangouts like the library, a museum, the zoo, a conference, or to see a band. She had signed her divorce and she was a free woman, able to go do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. A couple times, she had even gone to concerts, gotten drunk, and gotten a bit crazy.</p><p>But for a couple weeks now, she had been dating again, and it was no one but Spanner, Nick's little brother, who was Robin's same age and who was both an intellectual and a guy who knew how to have fun and who had money and was, Strike knew, treating Robin very well, even more since he had been pressured by Nick and Ilsa to be a gentleman. Strike had heard Robin laugh with him and blush, had seen them share a brief kiss as he walked her to work some days, and had known he took her out when a band she fancied played in a pub, he took her to interesting conferences, and art expositions, and even a ship restaurant at the river one day the weather had been exceptionally good. He was, by any means, a wonderful boyfriend, and it pissed Strike off not to be able to criticise him. He was young, he was intelligent, he was funny, he was kind, and Strike wished to find a flaw. Robin, as a consequence of hers and Strike's newfound relationship of peers who tell each other things, had confessed they weren't too serious though; no seeing other people at the same time, because Robin was so sensitive about cheating, but not so serious as to spend Christmas together. Robin wanted to take things slow; Spanner respected it. Robin called him 'Kevie' from 'Kevin'.</p><p>So the night before 'Kevie' had tagged along with Estella, Robin and a few of the friends Robin had made through Estella, and they've gone to celebrate Bonfire Night at a small concert in a bar, while Strike had celebrated with a quiet dinner in the company of Nick, Ilsa and their cats, feeling more than ever that he was an old guy and Robin far too young for him.</p><p>“In the positive side,” Nick had said as he filled his wife's dish generously, now that she was eating for two, “it's Kevin. We know he's okay, and I keep the short leash on him.”</p><p>Strike had merely grumbled. Now, Robin hadn't arrived yet from being with 'Kevie'.</p><p>Then suddenly, the door opened and Strike heard a giggle and Robin's footsteps in the outer office.</p><p>“Good morning!” Robin clamoured cheerfully, before opening Strike's office. Strike forgot to be pissed that she had been with another man having the fun he normally gave her, and only him, the moment he saw how pretty she looked, with her strawberry-blonde hair now cut short to her shoulders and wavier than ever with the shortness and the humidity, and her cheeks flushed and that expression of pure happiness. Like always, she was prettier in person than in his memory. Strike barely heard himself answer her good morning. “Want some tea? That way you can tell me how it was with Nick and Ilsa, can't wait to meet the little Herberts...”</p><p>Strike thought he managed an agreement and followed her to the outer office, where she put the kettle on the stove in the kitchenette. They had had to talk about the real possibility of getting evicted from their flat just the week before, but so far it seemed like they had some more time. Robin was already looking for a new office place anyway.</p><p>“It was okay,” Strike commented, flopping on the sofa. “The cats missed you, though. They're afraid of me.” Sure. The cats.</p><p>Robin smiled warmly and it was such a big, sincere smile, that Strike almost forgot why he wasn't kissing her, and then chastised himself mentally for even thinking of such daring things. Outside it had started raining again, and it drummed against the windows, making the light of the office a bit dimly.</p><p>“I wish I could've been in two places at once. So Ilsa's doing well, isn't she?”</p><p>“Yeah, they passed the fourteen weeks so they're thrilled. What about you, had fun? You were just laughing, I heard?”</p><p>“Oh,” Robin blushed, like often when Kevin came to her mind. “Kevie had just sent me this, look,” Robin showed Strike in her phone a picture of a salad with many knives and it read 'Caesar's death'. Strike managed a small smile. “He often sends me these silly things just because he knows I'll laugh. It's so stupid, but at the same time...” Robin looked at her phone again and snorted a laugh, shaking her head. “Memes.”</p><p>“Me what?”</p><p>“A meme,” Robin repeated. Seeing Strike's confusion, she smiled again and since when did she smile so much? She looked softly at him, like if he was a little child. “Sometimes I forget you're from another century.”</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>“Touché.”</p><p>“So what's a meme?”</p><p>“A funny photo ridiculing something, usually edited and spread online by an anonymous,” then, seeing Strike's stupefied expression, she added: “it's what youngsters do when they can't learn Latin.”</p><p>“Ah,” Strike half-smiled at the mock-teasing and Robin grinned once again, filling his mug with the creosote tea just the way he liked it. “And what will they do when serious global issues come and they don't know how to resolve them because they were busy with those things?”</p><p>“Well, Cormoran,” Robin tried to suppress laughter. “Create a meme.”</p><p>After that, they focused on work. Robin was investigating love letters than an old lady was receiving in suspected mocking, and she was soon in front of her computer researching more suspects, and Strike was to meet Andy Hutchins, who was a subcontracted employee of them, to discuss a couple cases, so they bid farewell and Strike went out to face the drizzle.</p><p>Business had been going alright. Strike had given an exceptional pay rise to Robin and a smaller one to Andy and Sam, and they were discussing the possibility of hiring a secretary once they moved to another office, as they knew it was inevitable. Strike had already packed his attic and had everything at Nick and Ilsa's, because the eviction was imminent, and half the office had also been packed, the boxes resting in Nick and Ilsa's attic. Robin had also been looking Strike a flat he could afford, but this seemed unlikely to happen, so Robin was trying to find an office where Strike could live temporally in conditions that weren't too bad, or an actual flat they could use as an office as well. Somewhere with an extra room to put a bed, and a bathroom, basically. Estella, who knew a lot of people, had been helping out, but so far no luck.</p><p>But they weren't too worried. With work coming in as much as it was, and paying as well as it was, they were optimistic. Their bank account was healthy and solid, and Strike could afford a taxi with some frequency, and was even starting to get measured for a better prosthetic, one that would let him run without agonizing in pain, as it was starting to look like a job requirement. If they had to spend some days without headquarters, they'd work from the pub, Robin's flat, or Nick and Ilsa's, and it'd be alright. Ilsa had several times told them not to get too anxious about it, not now that they were happy and things were going so well. 'It'll be alright' she told them diligently.</p><p>So Strike drank three pints with Andy without remorse, and had some fun chatting of random things with the ex-policeman, with whom he bonded over mutual passion for the Arsenal football team and the shared disability, as Andy had multiple sclerosis and sometimes had issues with a leg as well, once they had finished discussing the case. He and Andy had just reached Denmark Street while he smoke a fag, when he got a text. It read:</p><p>'<em>Now it's my time to have fun with you' </em>and then it was followed by a picture of Strike's old attic, now unoccupied. Another text arrived '<em>Hurry up or you'll get your heart ripped like I have. Tic tac</em>'. And a last picture came, of what Strike, with wide eyes, recognised as an improvised explosive device, sitting on the old attic's floor.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Up and walking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 2:</b>
</p><p>While Andy called 999 and alerted the buildings closer to the office, Strike ran into their office building shouting.</p><p>“EVERYBODY OUT! EVERYBODY OUT OF THE BUILDING NOW!” Strike bellowed breathless. He had been trying to phone Robin, but the phone had been on silence, and Strike was painfully aware that Robin often set it that way when she was meeting a client. He didn't know how long their had. “CROWDY, GET OUT!” He shouted knocking on Mr. Crowdy's office, but it was dark and it seemed like he was out. His leg screaming, he shouted for Robin. “ROBIN, QUICKLY, LEAVE EVERYTHING AND COME DOWN!”</p><p>“Cormoran?” Robin appeared at the stairwell. “What's wrong?”</p><p>“BOMB!” Strike roared. It was like being in the Viking again. Somehow, he felt it was going to happen before it happened. It was like an internal ticking clock, and he ignored his pained leg and raised a hand to pull Robin down the stairs, engulfing her between her arms fast as a lighting and throwing them both to the ground, his body covering hers, and then hell broke loose.</p><p>. . .</p><p>Robin's eyes opened and she coughed. She felt crushed and everything hurt, her lungs couldn't fill enough, her pupils burned. All she saw was grey and dust and breathing proved hard. She heard nothing but an eternal 'beep' sound, and when she attempted to cover her face with an arm, she realized she was trapped under something heavy in the darkness. She tried to elevate her head and her face collided with another. She smelled smoke and felt the stubble against her face. <em>Cormoran</em>.</p><p>“Cormoran,” Robin tried to say, coughing hard as she tried to breathe. “Cormoran,” she repeated more clearly, pressing her forehead against the other. It was his weight on her, but she couldn't feel his breathe on her skin, see his eyes open. Her eyes started clearing to show her the dust-covered face of her friend, blood pouring from his head and down his forehead. “Cormoran,” she said once again, with a more solid voice, her hands raising, at last, to grab him. She could feel debris against her hands, pieces of brick, wood and dirt, and she felt for Strike's torso and patted it. “Come on, come on, wake up!” she said a bit stronger. She looked around.</p><p>The sky was visible above them. The attic had blown up, and so had the office storey directly above them, although the floor of said storey had partially withstood the explosion, and only part of it had come down, crushing them. They had been in Mr. Crowdy's storey one below their office, and this one hadn't crumbled entirely. Robin could see, in the dust-filled rooms that kept making her squint, the inside of Mr. Crowdy's office, as the wall had blown-up, and pieces of furniture here and there. She could only see in the close distance, as the rest was clouded by the smoke. She felt water on her face and realized it was falling from a broken pipe.</p><p>Her eyes opened again, and this time, she could easily take a long breathe in. She blinked and heard a murmur of voices. She was in a dimly-lighted room, she could see the night of London through a window. Robin lied on a bed, and she felt for her feet and hands, breathing in relief when she was able to move them all.</p><p>“Rob,” Linda was there. Her mother had bags under her teary eyes, and she was soon by her side, stroking her face. Robin's head hurt and felt heavy under a bandage. Her back hurt. But when her mother grasped her hand and smiled at her, it all hurt a bit less. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Robin looked around. Her Dad and brothers were there, in her small hospital room. Jenny was there as well, and Sam with his wife, Andy, Andy's wife Louise, Nick and Ilsa, Kevin, Vanessa, Estella and April and Eric Wardle, who Robin suspected was responsible of so many people being let inside her room at once, although it could also be Anstis, who was also there with whom Robin suspected his wife.. Everyone looked anxious, worried. Ilsa looked like she had cried, and Nick had an arm around her. Robin's heart accelerated. Why weren't Nick and Ilsa with Strike?</p><p>“Where's Cormoran?” Robin demanded. “He shielded me. Where is he?” her eyes nailed on Nick and Ilsa.</p><p>“He's alive,” Nick replied, to her immense relief. “He's in the ICU, they only let Lucy in. She said she'd update us later. As he shielded you, he took most of it when two storeys crumbled on you and he's in pretty bad shape, but hasn't lost any other body part.” The bit of humour made Robin feel better, surprisingly. Kevin reached to caress her face.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Kevin repeated her mother's question.</p><p>“I'm fine,” Robin replied. “Only my head hurts. Why did the office explode?”</p><p>“Cormoran got a text showing an IED in his attic,” Andy explained. “We were just walking into Denmark Street. He tried to call you, but you weren't picking up, so he ran to fetch you and Mr. Crowdy.” Robin's stomach sank. Strike was in the ICU because she hadn't picked up. She must've put a face, because Estella was quick to intervene.</p><p>“It wasn't your fault, you could've been in the bathroom,” Estella reasoned. “Your phone could've been without battery, perhaps you didn't hear it, a bunch of things could've happened. And besides, he had to let Mr. Crowdy know anyway, right? Evacuate the building. Someone had to, and who better than a soldier.”</p><p>“It must've been staged. Whoever did it probably waited until he was inside to blow it up,” Sam, ex-riffleman, intervened. “They warned him because they wanted him going in, I'm sure he knew it when he did it, but he wouldn't have risked an innocent life.”</p><p>“And where is Mr. Crowdy then?” asked Robin, remembering their neighbour.</p><p>“Visiting his mother in Reading, back next Monday,” replied Sam. “I called him, he was in shock, but since they were kicking you all out of the building anyway, at least he had already packed most of his things, like Cormoran.” Robin nodded slowly. She lifted a hand up to her head and saw her hand was bandaged as well, probably due to cuts, as it didn't hurt to move.</p><p>“Mid concussion,” said Linda as Robin touched her bandaged head. “Collided with the floor. But the doctor said you could go home in a couple days.”</p><p>“What day is it?” Robin asked then, wondering if she had been unconscious so long.</p><p>“Still Tuesday the 6<sup>th</sup>. It's only...” Kevin checked his watch. “Half past seven. DI Wardle managed for the doctors to let us stay longer, just for today.”</p><p>“Are you in charge of the investigation,” Robin asked Wardle, who shook his head.</p><p>“There's a brigade specialized in terrorist attacks,” Wardle explained.</p><p>“Fuck's sakes this wasn't terrorism, this was a fucking grudge,” Robin couldn't help her bad language. Scare over, she was furious. Somebody tried to literally blow them up. “Cormoran's got more enemies than Bin Laden,” she exaggerated, “and now his attic's unoccupied, anyone could've gotten in, the lock downstairs barely works and the attic's door is old, easy to crack during the night, put a bomb there.”</p><p>“How'd you know it was there?” Anstis asked.</p><p>“'Cause there was no attic and no office above us, and the bomb surely wasn't in the office. Cormoran was there before me in the morning, if there had been a bomb, he'd seen. It had to be the attic; no one would be there. Besides, there are only two keys to our office and no one forced the door, 'cause we'd noticed. Corm's got one, I got the other.”</p><p>“Okay but who'd want to blow you all up?” April asked, frowning. “It seems quite a lot of effort, and to make an IED, not everyone can. I sure wouldn't know how to. It has to be someone who knows.”</p><p>“Cormoran and I know a hundred people who know,” Anstis commented. “Many in the army, many did time in prison because of Cormoran. He arrested many of our own, got them for drugs and all sorts of things, they lost it all. Any would be happy to blow him up.”</p><p>“But they had to know the attic would be empty,” Ilsa intervened.</p><p>“Or not,” said Robin. “If they went in during the night, no one would've seen. The entire flat is empty then. They could've come in, looking for a place to hide the bomb, found the attic. Besides, the stairwell to the attic is a side one, separated with a door that's not usually locked. He could've put the bomb there, on the stairs. We never go in there.”</p><p>“Could they have gone during the day?” Vanessa asked. “Perhaps any of you saw them?”</p><p>“No,” Robin replied. “The attic's floor is shit, you can hear everything from the office. When Cormoran lived there, I heard every single step he took from the office, every closed door, every rummage of drawers, everything. There's no way someone can go in there without us hearing in the office, and we're always there early.”</p><p>“I dropped Cormoran off at eight, on my way to work,” said Nick. “It would've had to be before then.”</p><p>“And after seven of yesterday evening,” added Robin. “When Cormoran and I closed the office for the day.”</p><p>“And you didn't see anyone suspicious?” asked Sam. “Perhaps the attacker walked around exploring in advance.”</p><p>“I don't know,” Robin shrugged. “There's people in the building every day, between out clients and Mr. Crowdy's.”</p><p>“Who's this Mr. Crowdy?” asked Martin.</p><p>“A graphics designer, his office's below ours,” Robin replied. “Now that I think about it, he could've seen something. He's always very... attentive of what goes on in the building. Gives us a shout every time he hears the slightest suspicious thing. Perhaps before he left, last week, he saw someone going around.”</p><p>The door opened and Lucy came in, looking rather anxious, with deep bags under her eyes, and worry written all over her face. She stopped abruptly seeing the room so full, but since it was a big room, she simply walked over to Robin and smiled small.</p><p>“You're awake. How're you feeling?”</p><p>“I'm fine, how's Cormoran, Lucy?” Robin asked looking anxiously at her.</p><p>“Well...” Lucy bit her lip. “They put him into medical coma, so he has time to recover from the wounds.” The lack of reaction from the others told Robin they had known and chosen not to tell Robin just yet. “They're worried about his brain, his skull got fractured and his ribs as well, one punctured a lung and... well... worries of infection and those things. They kicked me out 'cause of the hour, but I'll see him tomorrow morning, I called work to get some days free and our Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan will be here in the morning, from Cornwall, to take turns. They only let close family in, told them there's no one else, so they agreed on letting them. Can you believe a doctor asked what about Jonny Rokeby? Like he'd give a shit.”</p><p>“He'll be okay, Lucy,” said Robin, sensing her anxiousness and nervousness. “He's a rock.” Lucy smiled small and nodded.</p><p>“Yeah. At least, you guys managed a few storeys down, didn't you? Had you been just one up, we wouldn't have found you.”</p><p>“We didn't manage, it was all Cormoran,” Robin explained. “He was shouting so hard for everyone to get out of the building that I heard him from the office and ran down, and it was he who pulled me down the last few steps shouting something about a bomb.”</p><p>“It's a miracle you remember so much,” Stephen commented. Robin shrugged briefly, grimacing as her entire body hurt.</p><p>“Cormoran says I've good memory,” murmured Robin. “And I guess something so shocking it's memorable. Is everyone else alright? There was a bar below...”</p><p>“Evacuated,” Andy replied. “I had time to give it a shout to the closest places, they left just in time, although only our building came down, and only partially. The bar is intact, but I heard they'll take the whole building down, it's not safe anymore.”</p><p>“Karma's a bitch. They kicked us all out to make money with the building, and now they have no building,” Robin murmured. “Luce, when Cormoran wakes up, you tell him to get the fuck up from me, will you? Tell him I'll give him a whole hogshead of Doom Bar for this.” Robin said with a small smile. Lucy smiled and nodded.</p><p>“If that doesn't get him up and walking, don't know what will,” Lucy joked.</p><p>A doctor knocked in the door to kick everyone out as visiting time was over and Robin was kissed, waved at, received flying kisses, and at last, was left alone with her brother Stephen, who would stay the night, to worry about her best friend and lie down trying not to be in excessive pain. She could only be grateful Kevin had been on the ball and not kissed her goodbye, as no one in her family knew yet, as far as she knew, that she was dating again.</p><p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Second in charge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 3:</b>
</p><p>Robin woke up exhaling a groan and frowning lightly. Her head felt twice its size and sharp sounds were magnified in her sensitive head, her legs ached, and she thanked internally that Strike's selfless gesture had meant his big torso had shielded Robin with such efficacy that hers wasn't bruised, with exception of the back. As she received a shower with the help of a couple attentive nurses, she saw her arms, legs and hands covered in bruises and cuts, and her forehead had a bruise where, Robin suspected, Strike's forehead had hit when the weight of two storeys had fallen upon him, but she didn't mind. She would wear that bruise, the size of an apple, proudly, because it was a symbol of what he had done for her, and she would never forget it. If she could take even just that bit of pain after all he was suffering for her, then she would.</p><p>Once she was helped into pyjamas Estella had brought her, Robin attempted to get comfortable sitting up in the propelled-up bed with her pained back against a bunch of pillows, and a painkiller in her stomach. She felt still a bit dizzy and she hadn't slept well, her night full of disturbing dreams fuelled by her dark life experiences and fears, worry, anxiety, and medicines.</p><p>“So who's this Kevin Herbert?” Stephen asked her distractedly as they both had breakfast; hers, an elaborated light version of English breakfast prepared by the hospital catering, and his, a sandwich he had gone downstairs to buy at a store nearby and the bits of breakfast she couldn't with.</p><p>Robin's blue-grey eyes moved to her eldest brother over her breakfast as she ate with lack of appetite. At thirty-one and expecting his first child, Stephen looked like one of those strong Scottish warriors from the movies and the tales, with his short strawberry-blonde hair, bristling eyebrows, pugnacious jaw, and strong, fit, wide and large body. He sat on an armchair eating his sandwich with far more appetite than his little sister, looking at her with curious blue-grey eyes.</p><p>“Nick's little brother. Nick and Cormoran went to a comprehensive school together in Hackney,” Robin explained. “They're best friends. Nick married Cormoran's best friend since nursery, Ilsa, and Cormoran was their best man. Kevin's my age and does computer science, he's a pretty smart guy, done some jobs for Cormoran and I, old friend.”</p><p>“Right,” Stephen gulped and straightened in his seat, lowering his eyebrows as he gave Robin a more piercing glance. “He came in worried sick and pale, and he introduced to Mum and Dad as 'Kevin Herbert, at your service', and then he was holding your hand and all. Are you sure he doesn't want something else with you?”</p><p>Damn Stephen and his long and profound experience with women and dating. Robin felt a blush creeping to her face, colouring her ears pink.</p><p>“Kevin and I have been dating for a couple weeks,” Robin confessed then. “But the family has no idea yet.”</p><p>Stephen's eyebrows shot up and he looked evidently surprised.</p><p>“Oh,” Stephen blurted. “That's good I guess, if you feel ready.”</p><p>“Matthew and I broke up three months ago,” said Robin. “And I haven't loved him in God knows how long, so...” she shrugged vaguely, then regretted it as her shoulders screamed in pain. “Kevin is a good man. I like him, we always have a good time together and he treats me well and respects me. Besides, we're not very serious, although he's agreed not to date other people, knowing what happened with Matthew.”</p><p>“Alright then, whatever makes you happy makes us happy Rob, you know it,” Stephen smiled small. “I'll have to give him the third degree though.” He added non-seriously, making her roll eyes and smile a bit. “How're you feeling? They gave you quite the drugs.”</p><p>“Like I fell down the stairs, but nothing else,” replied Robin. “Cormoran really did shield me properly. Do you think they might let me see him?”</p><p>“Uhm,” Stephen looked up at the door, thoughtful. “Perhaps that DI Wardle can convince them?”</p><p>There was a knock on the door and Estella beamed entering the room with a bouquet of roses, followed by the Ellacotts.</p><p>“Hello gorgeous!” Estella put the flowers on the night stand and kissed Robin's cheek. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Robin happily welcomed the rest of her family, Stephen leaving after greeting his wife so he could get a shower and change at the hotel, and they sat and chatted for a bit, mostly discussing Robin's well-being. Robin noted Nick, Ilsa, Kevin and Lucy were absent, but it wasn't for long. Kevin arrived shortly before lunch time, bringing a giant teddy bear and a smile that Robin corresponded sincerely.</p><p>“Couldn't get out of work any sooner,” Kevin explained.</p><p>“Mum, Dad, I forgot to mention Kevin's my boyfriend,” Robin commented casually, ignoring the surprise they showed. Kevin was then more warmly welcomed and sat at the verge of the bed, massaging one of Robin's feet over the duvet softly as he answered to the family's curiosity-fuelled questions; where do you live, what do you do, oh computer science how interesting, and all the typical questions of a family worried about who the hell their girl was seeing now.</p><p>Before lunch, Jonathan and Martin left together back to Masham, to update their families and to get back to jobs they now had and of which they couldn't get out in the middle of the week for longer than the two mornings they had spent in London. After lunch, Ilsa and Lucy appeared looking as stressed as Robin had seen them the day before. Ilsa always looked ready for a trial, elegant in some shirt or blouse and a jacket, due to her job, and Lucy, when Robin had seen her, looked more casual. They both frequently passed by the office to hang out. They greeted everyone smiling tiredly and Ilsa brushed Kevin's hair playfully before they sat on the chairs Jonathan and Martin had vacated as they had left.</p><p>“How's Cormoran?” Robin asked right away.</p><p>“No changes,” Lucy replied. “Ted and Joan arrived and are with him now, for a couple hours before visiting hours end, they're super strict in the ICU. But it's only a few storeys down.”</p><p>“Nick isn't with him?” Robin asked. She had figured the gastroenterologist might've gotten some privilege as a doctor.</p><p>“No; he can't get out of work today until later,” Ilsa answered. “I managed to cut my hours a bit and helped Lucy and Greg get the kids to school while Greg had to go to work and Lucy was here, but Nick's packed; something about many docs on sick leave with the weather.” It was, indeed, raining and cold again, judging by their looks.</p><p>“I thought perhaps Nick, being a doctor, could stick with Cormoran more than us,” Robin confessed. Ilsa smiled small and shock her head.</p><p>“He tried, but surgeons don't have much respect for gastroenterologist. Nick says they think they're better than everyone else,” she commented amused.</p><p>“And how're you? Cormoran said you were fourteen weeks, right?”</p><p>“Ah, very well,” Ilsa grinned. Her thick jumper over her shirt covered what Robin imagined to be a small bump. “Thrilled, you know.”</p><p>“The first one?” Linda asked with an understanding smile.</p><p>“Yeah, long overdue. My husband—, Nick, and I, we've been wanting a big family for a long time. At this point we're happy with one.”</p><p>“It's all about relaxing,” Michael commented. “The harder you try the harder it gets, we never managed one when we were looking for it, they kept coming randomly when we weren't thinking about it. When our littlest, Jon, came, we weren't even thinking of having more, Martin, our third, was enough of a handful.”</p><p>“Martin lived in the ER,” Robin commented with her lip curving slightly into a smile.</p><p>“Well I was an accident, my brother says,” Kevin commented, making Robin giggle softly. Ilsa laughed, knowing the story.</p><p>“You corresponded to your brother's long-demanded petitions of a brother,” Ilsa said gleefully. Robin was content with the silly talk to get her out of her much more gruesome thoughts and worries, and she teased Lucy.</p><p>“What about you, Lucy? Trying to have all the children your brother refuses to have?” Lucy snorted a laugh.</p><p>“I always wanted a big family,” Lucy shrugged. “Let's just say Greg and I never tried not to have one until the third came around and well, it was enough. Corm kept saying he wouldn't babysit every time I said I was pregnant, you see.” Robin sniggered.</p><p>Robin's phone, which had miraculously survived the explosion being in Robin's pocket, buzzed suddenly on the night stand and Robin stretched a bandaged hand to get it.</p><p>“Robin Ellacott,” she said into the phone. “Oh, Mrs. Hasham...! I'm so sorry, well as you've seen our office blew up. No, we weren't playing with chemicals, there was a bomb. No, we're not dealing with murderers again. No, no one's going to blow-up your house, I guarantee. Well I'm at the hospital and Mr Strike's badly wounded, so... give me a week to organise myself and I'll tell you more. Of course we'll keep working Mrs. Hasham, we've got people taking care of your case and the minute I can get your files I'll call you back, but as you can understand... exactly... okay, thank you very much, bye.”</p><p>“It must be funny,” Stephen commented. “The face your clients must be putting upon seeing there's no office, all of the sudden.”</p><p>“What's not going to be funny is the amount of money we're going to loose over this. I've got many papers digitalized, but there were files I hadn't digitalized yet, I didn't have time and now they're blown-up, not to mention Cormoran's laptop, it was in the office, along with furniture worth at least a thousand or two,” Robin sighed. “This is the first of the many clients who are going to come knocking on our door either to cancel, not wanting to get involved with people who receive bombs, or to demand advances we can't have ready. Sam!” Sam Barclay appeared and he looked curious at the mention of his name. “I was just going to call you, have you got anything on Hasham?”</p><p>Sam stood surprised for a moment, caught off-guard, then frowned.</p><p>“Andy's got Hasham. I got Bowles, Reed and Soros, and all of that is in my laptop, do you need it?”</p><p>“I need you and Andy to start sending emails to everyone, calm them down before they call in hysterics like Hasham just did. We cannot lose them, not now, alright? We're going to have to rent a whole new office and buy all the furniture all over again, including computers, Cormoran cannot confront those expenses as things are now.”</p><p>“Right, we'll get on them today. Are you in charge now?”</p><p>“Well, Cormoran never really said what happens if he's unavailable, but yes,” Robin nodded. “I'm not letting this agency sink now, not over some maniac. Don't waste time visiting me, go find Andy, get together, see how many cases we have and split fifty-fifty, call me if there's any problem and above all, keep a low profile. This was probably against Cormoran, but if it was against the agency as a whole, we're all in danger alright?”</p><p>“Sure,” Sam nodded. “I also have news for you. I got a contact in the Met, who's investigating the explosion and he just told me the IED used was exactly the same type it was used in Afghanistan with Cormoran, they got remains and even visually is the same material, same appearance and all, and so this may be a silly thought, but I thought, what if it was on purpose? Like, when you got sent the leg it was about Cormoran's leg, so I thought...”</p><p>“Good idea,” Robin agreed with a nod. “Have you told your contact?”</p><p>“No. I didn't know if we're collaborating with them or going solo.” Robin bit her lip, thoughtful. The others kept a polite silence in respect for their work and silent understatement that the office was now wherever they could all get together.</p><p>“Call Graham Hardacre, he's a Lieutenant in the SIB, Cormoran's friend.”</p><p>“Oh yeah I know him, old friends.”</p><p>“Perfect, then you've got his number right? Tell him everything to the last bit. Let's not tell these things to the police yet, they'll laugh in our faces like usual, and even more the explosives guys who don't even know our work.”</p><p>“I don't know if this helps,” Estella intervened. “But I forgot to tell you I brought your laptop. It was on your bed.” Robin looked and saw Estella rummaging in her big backpack, a brown one she always carried everyone, and put the dark laptop out of it, handing it to Robin. “Work's there, right?”</p><p>“Thank you Estella, you're the best,” Robin grinned opening her laptop. “Thank God I rarely bring it to the office, everything's here. I'll send you some files, right Sam?”</p><p>“Perfect. Well I'll get going then, see you, get well!”</p><p>Robin wrote quickly, checking where her files were and the information they had. She packed several files in a folder labelled 'Dangerous' and saved it to send Wardle later.</p><p>“Perhaps you should rest now and work later, love, you were blown-up,” Linda suggested kindly.</p><p>“Mum, I can't afford rest,” Robin murmured. “Whoever did this meant to kill us. They waited until Cormoran was inside to detonate the IED, what's going to stop them uh? I won't sit and do nothing while Cormoran's downstairs trying his best to get better and someone wants him dead. He wasn't sitting around doing nothing when someone wanted me dead. We're partners. We have each other's backs.”</p><p>They let Robin work while doing small talk and interrupting themselves every now and then when a doctor had to check Robin and forced laptops away and people out. Finally the late afternoon came, when Robin had already put work aside and was drinking a disgusting vitamin and nutrients smoothie, and Vanessa came around.</p><p>“Hi ya!” Vanessa smiled. She had a suit, as she obviously came from work.</p><p>Once again greetings came and went, Lucy went out to attend a call from her uncle, and Vanessa informed Robin no one would tell them anything about the investigation, but that she supposed a cop would come to question her once she was home.</p><p>“They probably want to know about dangerous clients, those things,” Vanessa shrugged, eating a muffin.</p><p>“They're gonna have crazy fun going over our list of nutters,” Robin commented amused.</p><p>“List of nutters?” Ilsa asked interested.</p><p>“Yeah, mail we've received containing threats or very disgusting things. Some of Cormoran's fans are very interested on... the stump,” Robin said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. As an answer, there was a collective 'ew' accompanied with disgusting expressions. “Although Cormoran never took the death threats very seriously, said the Met laughed on his face when he brought them up in the beginning, four years ago.”</p><p>“Typical,” Ilsa shook her head. Lucy came back.</p><p>“My uncle and aunt left Corm, they're back at my place,” Lucy announced. “They said he's just like he was this morning, all scratched and bruised, poor thing. I'm going to head down see if I can find the doctor and get an update at least.”</p><p>“Keep me posted please,” Robin pleaded. Ilsa squeezed Lucy's hand managing a small encouraging smile and Lucy left. A couple minutes later, Nick arrived, exhausted and with his white coat in one arm.</p><p>Once they were settled with teas Vanessa, Stephen, Kevin and Michael brought for everyone, Robin started feeling sleepy despite having been on a bed all day, but also frustrated with the state of things.</p><p>“I approached an old friend who's a surgeon here today,” Nick commented. “He's going to see if he can find more on Oggy tomorrow.”</p><p>“Got an update!” Lucy announced triumphally. “They're going to start waking him up tomorrow, lowering the meds, could take hours and hours. Well, I'm gonna go home, I'm knackered and I don't trust my husband alone with the kids.”</p><p>So Lucy bid farewell to everyone and a couple hours later, visiting hours were over and Robin was left alone once again, this time around with her father to care for her. This time, there was no problem with Kevin kissing the corner of her mouth briefly before leaving.</p><p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tic tac</h2></a>
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  <b>Chapter 4:</b>
</p><p>On Saturday the 10<sup>th</sup>, Robin was finally discharged and sent home. She had nothing but a mid-concussion and a body full of bruises and scratches, now almost fully healed, and a bit of internal bruising from the weight her body had supported for such a long time until they rescued her and Strike from the building in ruins. Police had come and asked questions and Robin had given the little answers she was capable of giving, and in the meantime, Strike had woken-up from his coma and moved to his own room. His friends and family had told Robin he asked about her, and that he was drugged enough to not be in pain, although his skull fracture was enough to have him dizzy, confused and with memory loss. He was to stay in bed, but he was too weak to even argue it.</p><p>The moment she was discharged, Robin hurried to the lift to visit Strike. Her forehead was looking its normal size and her head was no longer bandaged, although she was still sensitive to some noises. She wore a jumper and jeans and an expression of worry.</p><p>“Hi,” Robin smiled small entering Strike's room.</p><p>This one wasn't as crowded as Robin's always was. Now all of Robin's family had gone up, hearing she'd be released that day and trusting Estella and Kevin, who had sworn to care for her amongst many others, and it was odd for Robin to see Strike had such little family to care for him. There was a big man with grey pube-like hair who could only be Uncle Ted, an elderly woman who looked like his wife, so she'd be Aunt Joan, and Lucy, with Nick and Ilsa, and a guy that Robin thought could be Dave Polworth, the oldest of Strike's friends. There was the bed, machines, and Strike, full of bruises and cuts and looking defeated lying in bed, half-awake, looking at her as if he wasn't sure she was real.</p><p>Lucy introduced Robin to her uncle and aunt and, indeed, to Dave, and after answering their questions about her health, Robin addressed Strike, smiling small to him and putting a hand carefully over one of his on the bed, standing by it. She noticed his knuckles were bruised and hands half bandaged, and she wondered if he had put his hands under her to make sure he covered her fully.</p><p>“How are you?” Robin asked him softly. Strike forced himself into an almost imperceptible smile.</p><p>“Alive,” Strike replied, his voice weak and hoarse. “You?”</p><p>“I'm fine, thanks to you. You saved my life, again.”</p><p>“That's what partners are for,” Strike's thumb brushed over her fingers a little, making the insides of Robin warm. “You stay safe?”</p><p>“I will,” Robin nodded. “And you be a good patient.”</p><p>“You know I won't.” His lips curved a little and Robin grinned and shook her head. “You promised a ton of beer.”</p><p>“Get well and I'll get you anything you want. You gave me a two-thousand-eight-hundred-ninety-nine pounds Cavalli just for my job, you get anything for saving my life.”</p><p>“Ah, I got you. That's worth more than anything else,” Robin was touched by this. “I won't refuse a beer though.” Robin nodded and kissed him on the cheek. The kiss made Strike close his eyes for a moment, and he cursed himself for having let her go twice, once to Matthew and another to Kevin.</p><p>When Robin left the hospital, she walked, almost without thinking, to Denmark Street, absent-mindedly grabbing the right bus combinations. When she saw the scene, her stomach sank. There were dozens of signs of 'No Trespassing – Risk of Collapse', and only the ground floor seemed unharmed. The rest, was a pile of debris, burnt materials and brick on top of it, most of the dirt and stuff now retired. A policeman watched over the street and the buildings that were at each side and right in front of theirs had been evacuated for security. Robin knew they'd do an organised demolishing of their building before it collapsed and hurt someone, and it caused her almost physical pain to see the disaster. Some of the best memories she had ever made were there, between ashes and stones. There she and Strike had found a rebirth... and there, they had also almost lost their lives.</p><p>Dinner with Kevin didn't do much to improve her mood.</p><p>“Oh, cheer up, Fed's fine,” Kevin smiled warmly at her after five minutes of her not contributing to the conversation and hardly listening, playing around with the rice Kevin had cooked.</p><p>“It's not just worry for him, Kev,” Robin murmured. “We've lost our office. I had great memories there, and we almost died there not a week ago. A freaking bomb. I can't believe it.”</p><p>“It's a terrible thing to happen,” Kevin emphasized, reaching a hand to caress her face softly. “But it'll be alright, Robin. You two are a team, you've survived it all. You're like the phoenix, you may crumble you ashes... but you will both come out of it better than ever and ready for war. You will see.”</p><p>Robin looked up at him and managed a small smile. She was always touched when he made an effort to listen to her and comfort her, and not throw shit against Strike like Matthew would've done.</p><p>When Kevin left to go home, as they weren't sleeping together yet, Robin sat until late in bed, researching any renting space that could be enough for them to form an office there and, when she grew frustrated with that, after staring at a property in Tavistock Street she wasn't sure they could afford, she researched their clients, hoping to find someone dangerous to accuse of putting a bomb in their office.</p><p>Before she realized she had fallen asleep, and she woke up rather soon for her liking. It was freaking early, she saw on the watch, but Robin still got up and ready and her steps led her back to the hospital without thinking much about it. She arrived half an hour after the start of visiting hours, which were early for Strike's area in the hospital, and went straight to his room. However, when she opened the door, she was surprised to find next to the snoring man there was a woman she had never expected to actually talk to.</p><p>“You must be Robin,” she was tall and gorgeous, with long black hair, and a big belly of pregnancy. Robin was petrified for a moment, and Charlotte's smile had a malicious hint for her. “I've heard a lot about you.”</p><p>“Probably way better things than those I've heard of you,” Robin replied coldly. Charlotte glared at her and stood up in all her glory. “You should go. Only family and friends are allowed.”</p><p>“I'm sure there will be no problem if the Viscountess of Croy is visiting an old friend.”</p><p>“Perhaps not with security, but you will have it with me. And I'm not someone you should like to have a problem with.”</p><p>Robin didn't know where her capacity of being so predatory came from, but she suspected it was from pure rage; rage from what had happened to them, rage for the things she had heard, mostly during her month at the Herberts, that Charlotte had done, rage for what she had seen Charlotte do to Strike, rage because he was treated so unfairly and used, and disrespected. Charlotte however seemed amused, smiling coldly at her.</p><p>“Oh, like I'd be scared of you.”</p><p>Robin shook her head and went to the other side of Strike's bed, adjusting the duvet to make sure he was warm and cosy.</p><p>“If you ever come close to him or try to contact him again, I will give you reasons to be scared. And it is a threat,” Robin turned around, glaring at Charlotte. “I've fought people bigger and way more dangerous than you. I don't know if you are to be scared of me, but I guarantee you, Charlotte Campbell, I am not scared of you. Barbies aren't intimidating, no matter how sharp their nails might be. Serial killers are, and I break their noses for a living.”</p><p>Charlotte gave her a last cold glare, and left. Robin sat on the armchair closest to the bed and took one of Strike's hands between her own, leaning forward. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Strike's soft snores interrupting it every now and then. It was odd his snores had turned so soft, but Robin imagined it had something to do with breathing the hot air post explosion. Perhaps with the burns, it didn't sound as much, or perhaps they had done something for him to breathe better. Maybe he wasn't sleeping deeply enough. Finally, Strike's eyes opened, after a while of what Robin didn't think of as peaceful rest, since he had been turning and murmuring things she couldn't understand. His eyes searched lost, and finally stopped on her, and he smiled a lot.</p><p>“R'bin...” he murmured. The effort seemed too much for him, and he took a deep breath afterwards.</p><p>“Hi,” Robin smiled, reaching a hand to caress his face. “You can rest if you want. I just wanted to see you.”</p><p>“Stay?” his eyebrows raised and he looked almost begging.</p><p>“Of course. I'm not going anywhere.”</p><p>Strike then fell asleep again until breakfast was brought in, and a nurse gently awoke him and helped him sit up, curving his bed upwards to help him, although he still scowled and groaned, pressing a big hand against his forehead.</p><p>“Fuck...” Strike sighed. “Ev'rythin' bloody hurts...” he murmured.</p><p>“You're already under a big amount of painkillers, sir,” the nurse said gently, moving the bed table with the breakfast closer to him. “Try to eat a bit, it'll feel better.”</p><p>Robin felt guilty. There she was, perfectly fine, while Strike was agonizing. She cut Strike's sausages and pinched one with the fork, moving it to Strike's lips. He looked at her with a light frown.</p><p>“Come on Cormoran, so you don't have to lean forward. You need to eat a little.” Strike nodded small, and ate the sausage, making her smile. “That's my partner!” He smiled as well, his mouth full.</p><p>As he ate, Robin looked at him meaningfully, thoughtful.</p><p>“I don't remember much of before waking-up at the hospital but,” she began, “I remember first you were just calling for me, but at one point, you pulled me to the ground. You knew when it was going to explode. You knew, and so you covered me right on time.”</p><p>Strike, who remembered less than she did, frowned lightly, because the act of a deeper frown hurt him just by thinking about it.</p><p>“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe. When the leg got blown-up in Afghanistan, I knew as well. Dunno how I do those things... but I felt it was gonna happen', so I pulled Anstis to the back with me. That's why his face's scarred instead of... him bein' dead. 'Nd why I only lost part of the leg. We should be dead, both of us.”</p><p>“And also you and I, if you weren't able to feel those things before they happen,” Robin nodded slowly. “Quite an interesting trait. You should put it in your CV, 'feels bad shit before it happens'.” She added looking to make him smile a little, which she managed triumphally.</p><p>“I don't remember protectin' you.”</p><p>“What do you remember?”</p><p>“The text. Panic,” Strike sighed, looking sadly at her. “Not knowin' where ya where... shoutin' your name... then I was here 'nd Luce said you were fine... that I'd saved you.” His voice was slurred with the drugs and the pain.</p><p>“You did,” Robin agreed, nodding. “You saved my life. You threw me to the floor and wrapped me up in your arms, so when the explosion happened and the office and attic fell upon us, you took most of the hit and shielded me.”</p><p>“I don't know what I'd do without you, Rob'n,” Strike said quietly. “I remember the fear in here... the panic...” Strike's big hand touched his chest. “Felt I'd die. I'd die if I lost you.”</p><p>He looked so small, lying there. Robin looked attentively, seeing how upset he genuinely looked through sad tired eyes and beneath all the bruises and cuts. How vulnerable and how sad. He was raw and it made her insides twist. She put the tray with now empty plates on the dresser and sat again, taking one of Strike's big, bruised, hair-covered hands between her own.</p><p>“I'll be fine,” she said softly. “If you hadn't gone in, it's likely the attacker wouldn't have detonated the bomb. I think they were coming for you, Cormoran, and that they didn't care who had to die or get hurt in order to blow you up in shreds. You don't have to worry, I'm taking care of myself and I won't let anything happen. I've got you, too... I can't lose you either...” Strike nodded, taking a hard breath in through his nose.</p><p>“What does the police know?”</p><p>“Nothing they'd tell us. Hardy managed to get some information and told me they suspect it was a terrorist attack from the jihadism, since now everyone's so sensitive to terrorism. They said since the bomb used was the kind that's often seen in countries at war in places like Afghanistan, Syria or Iraq, it was very likely caused by the Jihad. They're so sure, that since the event made it to the news, the Prime Minister has condemned it as a, and I quote, 'terrorism attack over the innocent civilian population in order to cause deep fear'. No one has stopped to think it's related to you. Hardy's trying for the right people to think of this, but they won't listen. When I went to the detective in charge and told him this is clearly a revenge attack, he laughed on my face and said I don't know what I'm talking about and that better devote to my espionage and leave the big things for the professionals.”</p><p>“What a bunch of pricks...”</p><p>“Yeah... but it means we're solo. I've been investigating, but I haven't found anything. No one we're investigating seems capable of so much. And Sam, he commented how the IED... well... it's exactly like the one that took your leg,” she said carefully. Strike looked at her serious. “It made us think that perhaps who did this is a veteran you imprisoned. Someone who wants revenge. Like Laing.”</p><p>“It's curious they haven't come to finish me off...” Strike murmured. He was feeling sleepy again.</p><p>“Well, there are guards in the corridor just in case.” But Strike had already fallen asleep, and started to snore deeply. Robin smiled and leaned forward, kissing his forehead. “Sweet dreams giant.”</p><p>Robin adjusted Strike's pillows carefully, and when her hand manoeuvred, she felt something under the pillow. She stretched her fingers and pulled out a computer-written note. It was a simple, small, white paper, and it said: 'Tic, tac.'</p><p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 5:</b>
</p><p>Strike was released from the hospital and sent to Nick and Ilsa's on Wednesday the 21st, after he signed himself out against hospital recommendation. This made his friends realise of how much the skull fracture had affected him, as they got to truly see how he was, now that he was walking around the house. He was weak, suffered frequent, though normal, headaches, he was tired most of the time, forgetful, with concentration issues , dizzy spells, and a general clumsiness. The day of his release, Robin was invited for dinner, and she appeared there with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates of which Strike immediately proclaimed himself owner, alleging that he couldn't drink their alcohol due to his medication, so the chocolates would be his consolation prize.</p><p>“I think I've found a new office,” Robin announced happily during dinner, sitting next to Strike, who didn't have much appetite and was mostly playing with his tagliatelle. However, hearing Robin he gave her all his attention, waiting for more information. “Finsbury Road, Covent Garden. It's a duplex loft, actually, not too expensive for what it is and where it is, and I figured you could live in the upper floor, it's pretty decent. And the building's got a lift, you'd only have to walk the stairs to the living area, leaving the office below, and it'd only be once daily, so I figured it'd be okay.”</p><p>“A duplex loft in Covent Garden...” Strike's lip twitched into a tiny smile. “Robin, how much money have you calculated I've got? Because I'm sorry to inform you, you must've made a Math mistake.”</p><p>“Oh, but I haven't. Trick is, it's not sold as a duplex loft, but as an office; it used to be an architects' studio, and they've had some issues and need to sell it to make some urgent money, so I negotiated and they lowered the prize a little, and besides, I told them we don't want all the office furniture, which seems rather fancy and expensive, so the prize was lowered a lot because of that. It's only a bit more than what your attic and flat together cost you in Denmark Street, and now we're making good money, it's affordable.”</p><p>“If it's not sold as a house, does it have living facilities?” Ilsa asked with concern.</p><p>“Yes, it has a kitchenette in the upper floor and a bathroom there as well, and a small toilet in the lower one. No kitchenette in the lower one, but we can set up an electronic kettle in the office, it was all for what we used the kitchenette anyway. Look, I'll show you,” Robin pulled her phone and showed Strike photographs she had taken herself. “I visited it yesterday.”</p><p>The lower floor, that would be the office, had four rooms; a tiny toilet, a waiting area with space for a secretary's desk, and two tiny offices. The whole thing was rather small, but spacey enough for them and certainly bigger than Denmark Street, so it'd be money well invested. In the waiting area, a door that, Strike saw, had a locket so he could lock it, led to a small staircase into the upper floor, where he'd live, at the top of the building.</p><p>There, there was one decent bathroom, a kitchenette in the sitting-cum-dining room, and a bedroom. They were small rooms too, but everything he needed. It seemed like the architect studio had used what he'd use as a sitting-dining room as a meetings room, for it had a long table with chairs, and that the other rooms had been normally used as small offices for each employee. The one in the upper floor must've been the boss.</p><p>“It looks very nice,” Strike handed the phone for Nick and Ilsa to see. “Do you really think I can afford it?”</p><p>“I'm so sure, I already made an offer and they took it, Cormoran. You just have to sign the contract and it's yours, they said it'd be ready by Friday,” Robin grinned, seeing how stupefied he looked. “And it has a pub right by the corner.”</p><p>“Really?” Strike beamed, touched. For one moment even his discomfort from his injuries dissipated. “You're a very nice person, Robin. Thank you.”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> very nice,” Nick nodded. “But Oggy, you won't think of moving out while you're still convalescent, right?”</p><p>“Of course,” Robin agreed with Nick. “You can't come to live just yet; it doesn't even have more furniture than the kitchenette, bathroom and toilet, we'll have to get some furniture. But I thought perhaps we could ask everyone we know to give us any old bookshelves, desks or chairs they no longer use, get the rest from second-hand stores, and if it became something urgent we could even ask online for people to make donations, now that they fancy us.”</p><p>“You can take our guests' bed,” Ilsa offered. “Right, love? Now that we won't be needing it.” She smiled, patting her belly.</p><p>“That's right! And the dresser as well, we're buying all new for the twins,” Nick chuckled happily at the reminder.</p><p>“And at the lawyer's bureau I'm sure I can find you some more office material, we have a lot and some we don't use anymore. I'll ask my mates there if anyone remodelled their home studios recently and want to give away the old stuff as well.”</p><p>“Great!” Strike felt suddenly lighter and happier, and patted Robin's back. “You're such a life-saver.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>I </em>am the life saver?” Robin sniggered. “What did you do, mister?”</p><p>“I was just protecting my provider of beer and car-rides,” Strike joked. His eyes crinkled looking at her and she truly did feel full inside. She didn't know what she was feeling for Strike lately, but it was warm, and it made her nervous.</p><p>Somehow the conversation shifted to baby names and they had a laugh discussing ridiculous baby names, each worst than the one before, like 'Benedictinus' or 'Morella', until Strike retired to bed, exhausted, and Robin announced she'd be going back home before it got too dark outside, so she and Strike exchanged a short hug and she was gone.</p><p>Robin kept thinking about who had left that note under Strike's pillow. She hadn't told anyone, and had kept the note in a plastic evidence envelope, safe in her flat. She hadn't told anyone about Charlotte's visit either, and she was taking things personal to figure out exactly what was all of that about. That's why on the next day, with Strike safe in Octavia Street, Robin took her email and wrote an address that she had never forgotten in the recipient section: clodia2@live.com.</p><p>Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say:</p><p>
  <em>Hello, Charlotte,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's Robin Ellacott.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know what you've done.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Either you tell the police, or I will.</em>
</p><p>She pressed send, and blocked Charlotte's address. She didn't need an answer, what she needed is for her to fuck up under the pressure, and she knew being Charlotte, it wasn't going to be easy. Her phone buzzed with a text and she took it anxiously, expecting Charlotte but seeing instead that it was only Strike.</p><p>
  <em>The people in Finsbury Road called me to sign the contract, they got it ready a day earlier. Want to come with me?</em>
</p><p>Robin smiled and replied she'd pick him up before rushing to get her Land Rover. Strike's BMW was parked in Octavia Street now, but he was too unwell to drive it.</p><p>She had observed lately that there was a slight childishness in Strike ever since the explosion, in the sense that he was more easily smiley and happy, almost excited, when they were together, and he seemed to find it particularly thrilling that people wished to do things with him and didn't baby him too much. He didn't smoke now, because he couldn't, so instead of rolling the window down, Robin noticed he looked at her excitedly pretty often, and seemed particularly content to be accompanied, like an excited but restrained dog with deep bags under his eyes.</p><p>“Are you too bored in Wandsworth?” Robin asked with a smirk as she drove north-east to Covent Garden.</p><p>“I just... I don't know what to do with myself, if I'm honest. I can't work. I can't do anything remotely useful. I'm a bit of a... baggage.”</p><p>“You are no baggage,” Robin squeezed his knee. Strike smiled small, but said nothing.</p><p>The duo was by their new office soon enough, and took the lift the four floors up. Frequently, Robin had to keep a hand on Strike's back to steady him, as he was still unwell. Robin and the employee from the estate agency showed Strike all around and he was happy and content, so Robin read the contract with him a couple times to ensure it was everything as it was affordable and agreed and that it all was covered, and Strike signed it. They shook hands, and were given a key, that Strike decided they should immediately get a copy of, for Robin, so afterwards they were on a pub.</p><p>Since Strike couldn't drink, he was given a non-alcoholic cocktail and Robin asked for a white whine, and she also bought him a bag of crisps. She was noticing that Strike seemed deep in thought, not too chirpy anymore.</p><p>“Do you sleep well?” he asked all of the sudden, sitting in the corner across from her.</p><p>“You know I don't.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Strike nodded. “Me neither. You know,” the detective continued, as in on a second thought, “I'm actually truly scared, Robin.” He confessed with embarrassment, looking down.</p><p>The honey-haired woman frowned and looked softly at him.</p><p>“Why?” Robin inquired. “Is it the attacker? 'Cause we'll catch them, Cormoran. We always do.”</p><p>“It's just...” Strike puffed, and shook his head slightly. “May 12<sup>th</sup> 2007. It's the day my leg was blown-off. And I opened the office at Denmark Street on September 2<sup>nd</sup> 2008. Do you understand?” Robin frowned in concentration, but shook her head. “It took me over a year to be fit to work, Robin. That's what I'm scared of. I don't know when I'll...” he sighed.</p><p>“The doctor said your head would be better in six weeks. Don't worry, you're not too bad.”</p><p>“It's not just the head. I get nervous every time I'm in the house too long. It feels like it's going to come down.” So that's why he was so chirpy about company; distraction. And today, getting out of the house added excitement.</p><p>“CBT helps,” Robin offered. “And I'm here,” on impulse, she reached a hand and grasped Strike's across the table. He looked up, surprised, but she merely braved-up and smiled. “We're in this together. We were there together and we'll get out of it together.”</p><p>“Yeah...” Strike managed a tiny smile and a nod. “I dream a lot about the leg lately. About that day. It's like this thing brings it all back.”</p><p>Robin was surprised. Mostly, when they had deep personal talk, either one of them or both was drunk, or one of them was hysterical. The last time she had had a panic attack on the roadside. Now, perhaps, Strike was thinking they were at a stage where he felt comfortable to talk, and the idea that she was chosen for it made Robin feel proud and content, like she had something very precious.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello lads! Not seeing many comments lately so I thought I'd prepare some questions you guys can talk about if you want!<br/>1. What's your favourite character of Strike?<br/>2. What's your favourite thing/part about the series?<br/>3. Strike AU or Canon Strike?<br/>4. You prefer long fics or short fics?<br/>5. What's your favourite part about a story?<br/>6. What's your favourite gender for stories?<br/>7. What type of romantic are you?</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Tic tac two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Delivering from London quarantine ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 6:</b>
</p><p>“Tell me about it?” she encouraged, seeing him doubt.</p><p>“It was a really hot day, but we were covered up to the last hair in military gear. We were investigating a killed in action, Gary Topley, Richard Anstis and I, and so we got in a Viking vehicle with a driver, and we were up a yellow road when we were ambushed and under fire,” Strike explained. Robin listened attentive, her hand still grasping his, her thumb slowly drawing small circles against the hairy back of his hand. “I saw a kid running with his little brother to the side of the road, and I sensed it. I don't know... Richard had been talking about his son Timothy, born two days prior, showing me pictures. Gary was young and had a fiancée, while Rick and I were thirty-two, he married and with Timothy, and I single in that moment, with only my family, my nephews... I felt something terrible was going to happen. I shouted brake, brake, and they didn't, and for some reason, even though Gary was right in front of me, I grabbed Richard by his shirt and pulled him to throw ourselves to the back of the Viking as fast and hard as I could,” Robin kept quiet. He had a light frown and was looking at the wooden table. “Gary was cut in half. They only found the head and torso to bury,” Robin realised she had been holding her breath, and she breathed out. “From the driver, nothing but little pieces were found. Anstis got his face heavily burnt, but otherwise fine, bloody lucky guy... now he's father of three. And I...” he shrugged vaguely. “I woke up, I remember it crystal clear. I was lying on my back, on the side of the road, that's how hard the explosion threw me. I couldn't breathe. I only heard a sharp 'beep'. And I couldn't believe I was alive. And this kid I'd seen, he's standing pointing at me with a gun... when he looks down, at my leg, and he smiles, and leaves. I looked down, to see what that had been about and... you have no idea,” his voice had gotten so hoarse. “You have no idea, what it is... Looking down, seeing your leg... when you feel it, you know? I still feel my leg there sometimes, and back then, I felt it constantly for months. I felt it, yet there was a large amount of blood.”</p><p>“Bugger,” Robin couldn't help the murmur.</p><p>“Yeah... next... I woke up in a camp hospital, but every memory from that is fuzzy from the drugs. I don't remember anything until I woke-up in Germany, and I saw Hardy, who was working in Germany back then, standing by the bed, talking with my sister, who had flown over. I've only seen her so pale, so scared, so worried, thrice in life. When Whittaker killed Mum, when Jack was in the hospital, and this time. But I wasn't in pain, too drugged up. And next I spent a month in Selly Oak in London, before I was released into the care of Nick and Ilsa's.”</p><p>“You were next to a Welsh man who also got blown-up and survived,” Robin added. Strike smiled.</p><p>“Good memory as always,” he complimented her. She smiled back and he took a large sip of his cocktail. “God, I hate hospitals. The only half-amusing thing was people's reactions to my leg. Some couldn't get their eyes off the sheets, others avoided it to ridiculous extremes.”</p><p>“Oh God,” Robin snickered, and he cackled, nodding. “And then, you couldn't stand cars.”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“You were very calm in one the night... when Raphael got me.” Strike shrugged.</p><p>“Nick isn't too bad, and you needed me to be chill. Besides, I normally carry it inside.”</p><p>“I understand,” Robin nodded. “Are you in touch with the Topleys?”</p><p>“No,” replied Strike. “I went to Gary's funeral, but I felt awful.”</p><p>“Survival's guilt.”</p><p>“Exactly. He was right in front of me, everyone new. It felt like everyone was wondering, why didn't you pull him back too? He was so young, you've got two hands, why didn't you? No one had the bravery to say it to my face, but still. So I distanced. Haven't heard a word from them since.”</p><p>Robin nodded slowly.</p><p>“We can't save everyone.”</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“The way I see it, Gary knew where he was getting into,” the younger detective said, looking up at her senior. “You were just a sergeant, not God. Not your choice who dies or lives.”</p><p>“Only the choice of who pulls the trigger, yes. But I don't think his widow found much consolation in that.”</p><p>“Charlotte gave birth three days ago,” Robin blurted out all of the sudden. Strike blinked and straightened in his seat.</p><p>“Oh...”</p><p>“I saw it on the internet.”</p><p>“Well good for her. Our lives are better off apart.”</p><p>“I know. Thing is... what if I think... what if I think she might've done something terrible? A crime, I mean,” Strike frowned lightly. “Would it still be okay to go after someone who just had babies?”</p><p>“Would it be better to let her free to commit another major crime?”</p><p>“Not this type of crime.”</p><p>“Then, you ought to speak-up.”</p><p>The Yorkshirewoman tilted her head slightly then sighed, taking a gulp from her glass before looking at Strike again. He contemplated her with curiosity.</p><p>“I caught her sitting by your bed in the hospital the other day, while you slept,” Robin said. “This alone is nothing bad. But I'm pretty sure she put a note I found under your pillow that read 'tic tac'. I think it's a reference to the IED that blew the office up. She's involved, Cormoran.”</p><p>“If she put the note,” said Strike.</p><p>“Who else? There were guards in the corridor, but they sure would let the viscountess in.”</p><p>“Did you ask the guards?”</p><p>“Yes, but they said a lot of people came in and out, they were only in the lookout for criminals.”</p><p>“Then anyone could have done it, Robin.”</p><p>“But she was right there, is it going to be a casual thing?”</p><p>“You said it was under my pillow, you had to manipulate it to—,”</p><p>“I was accommodating it for you.”</p><p>“Exactly; someone could've left it days sooner, and no one realized because it was under my head. Charlotte's an awful woman, Robin, but she's got zero knowledge on IEDs, trust me.”</p><p>“But she would know exactly what happened to you.”</p><p>“No, I never talked much about it, and she never cared much. Have you given it to the police?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then don't. Tic tac... It sounds familiar...” Strike frowned and pulled his phone. There he was, the message he had received alerting him of the IED. “Here, I knew I had seen it somewhere before. This is what alerted me.”</p><p>'<em>Now it's my time to have fun with you' </em>Robin read in Strike's message, along with a picture of Strike's old attic. Another text continued '<em>Hurry up or you'll get your heart ripped like I have. Tic tac</em>'. And a last picture came, of what seemed like a mini torpedo.</p><p>“Is that...?”</p><p>“The IED, yes. Exactly like the one that took my leg.”</p><p>“Tic tac. Does it mean is going to attack again?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Strike sighed. “We ought to be careful, alright? I mean it. Whoever did this, knows what they're doing.”</p><p>“We have to tell Wardle. Have him take over the case and look at the CCTV footage of everyone who came in and out of your room, there are cameras in that corridor, if only we could see them...”</p><p>“Let's do that. If the current investigator ignores us, Wardle won't.”</p><p>
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